The Price of Absolution
by pensandvinyl
Summary: Gold had a choice. He could do the right thing or he could continue on with exactly the sort of behavior that had driven his son away in the first place. A Sequel to Argo Navis and The Black Sea.


So I found a bunch of old files in my google docs and figured I'd post them because why not. They're old and they're not even the *newest* drafts (I had to switch out the names of Emma and Neal's friends - I think I caught them all, but just in case Saffron = Effie, Hattie = Joy, and Lucas = Leo), those were about two computers ago, but the chapters that I'm gonna post are relatively complete and I think they give a good scope of what the story was going to be. This *part* of the series is finished, at least. Beyond that, anything that wasn't can probably be filled in with a few drabbles. I'm not planning on writing anything new and I'm not gonna stress too much about editing, but there were parts of this that I'm really proud of and just never got around to posting for a variety of reasons. Hopefully there's something to be enjoyed here, though, and thanks if you decide to read on!

Note that the Black Sea should be read before this.

* * *

He had nearly listened to Emma, accepting the fact that she needed to do this alone just as much as he needed to stay here with the kids, but then as he had tucked in Carina during Emma's long chat with Porter the night before, she had asked, wide-eyed and worried, "You're _not_ really going to let Marmy fight the Evil Queen alone, right?"

"Of course not, Care Bear," Neal had promised, smoothing back her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, even if he didn't quite know how he planned to keep that promise. But Carina needed to sleep, worry-free, and those words would allow her to.

After though, when he had gone in to say a quick goodnight to Porter, his son had told him much the same, only with much graver implications.

"Mom can't go alone, Dad," he said, "When the hero goes off alone, it's always to their death."

And while Neal didn't necessarily want to encourage Porter's belief that books and heroic quests mirrored real life, he also knew that, one, it was more true than not and therefore, leading to point two, he needed to keep his promise to Carina and Porter.

Even if it meant going against what Emma wanted.

It didn't matter that _her_ plans only involved helping a pregnant teen. He couldn't just send her off alone, not knowing the things that he did. About his father and magic and _that_ entire world. And just because those things happened to find themselves trapped in sleepy little town, it didn't make them any less dangerous. So Neal might have done something incredibly stupid. Well, stupid only in the sense that Emma, he knew, would call it that.

He considered, of course, the idea that he could get Effie or Leo to pick the kids up after school and just follow her to Storybrooke. She couldn't stop him if he was already there. But despite his worries he knew that he _was_ too emotionally invested in the situation and considering the complete lack of control he had over his reaction to seeing his father again the first time, Neal didn't want to risk jeopardizing whatever Emma needed to do to help that poor, pregnant girl.

Plus, considering that a one hour job on the car had suddenly turned into several, he knew that forces would work to keep them, or Emma at least, in town. That merely heightened the fear, but it also grounded him, reminding him that she was at least right to want one of them to stay here with the kids in case something went wrong.

He hated the idea of risking Emma, but abandoning the kids, unintentionally or not, was far worse and out of the question.

So he made the call. Despite knowing it would seriously piss Emma off. And while he would have most definitely preferred a more stable option, he went with what he had, trusting the fact that August Booth had something to gain out of helping Emma.

(More than Neal did even).

He had to cut it a little close though, telling Booth to arrive on the heels of the school bus's typical arrival, knowing that Emma would want to leave soon after due to the long commute ahead of her.

It got worse though when Emma didn't even worry about the possibility of them missing the bus, as the kids clung to her extra tight, Carina complaining of a stomach ache as she wrapped her arms around her mother's neck, Porter hanging off her waist.

"Maybe I should drive them," she said, looking helplessly to Neal, who did his best not to show his hand, while she absently rubbed soothing circles on Carina's stomach.

Porter and Carina responded enthusiastically. "To _Storybrooke_."

"To school," she stressed and they deflated, Carina once again complaining, "I don't feel well."

Emma knelt down, prying Carina's arms from around her neck before looking at both Porter and Carina head on, caressing both of their cheeks with a gentle hand. "I'm going to be fine," she promised them. "We didn't tell you all that yesterday because we wanted to scare you. We did it to be honest and so that you would understand. But there's really nothing to worry about because I'm going to Storybrooke to do my job. The same job that I do everyday. And then I'll come straight home. I promise. Now give us a hug."

She clung to them extra tight, smoothing out their hair and pressing kisses to both their foreheads, murmuring a fervent _I love you_ that Porter and Carina promptly returned, the goodbyes becoming exaggerated as she guided them out the door, stiffening when she saw the bike sitting in their driveway, August leaning casually against it.

"Cool," Porter exclaimed, nearly darting forward before Emma grabbed him by the backpack, pointing him in the opposite direction, towards Mr. Portobello's worn down farmhouse where the bus would pick them up. She watched, until both Port and Carina were out of hearing distance, before turning on August who immediately held up his hands defensively.

"I was here at the suggested time."

She turned on Neal then, gaping a bit, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.

"You shouldn't be poking around on your own, Em," and, over her protests that she could take care of herself, he added, "and, more importantly, you shouldn't have to."

"And you think the crazy drunk is the solution," she retorted, gesturing wildly at August, "if anything he's going to up the danger level."

"He promised to sober up," he countered.

"And you believe him?" she questioned, as if this was truly the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

"Yes," he said simply, ignoring the grateful look August shot him. But he did, only because he knew that, of all three of them, August was the one that had the most to gain out of breaking the curse. Emma had her parents, of course, but she didn't see that. Not right now. If anything, the possibility of meeting her parents had her itching to run in the other direction, the only thing motivating her not to was a pregnant girl stuck in a bad situation. "It's either him or me."

She shot him a skeptical look. "You actually think this is _that_ dangerous?"

"I know it is," Neal told her, particularly if she planned to go poking her nose around the Evil Queen's business.

(And he knew, even if she refused to acknowledge it outright, that a part of Emma knew it too. Or she wouldn't have protested so adamantly against him going with her.)

She fixed him a look, features hard and stormy that he met head on, refusing to waver, not even if it meant another fight, until finally she let out an angry puff of air. "Fine," she said flatly, before she turned on August. "But I'm in charge. You do as I say. I'm there to do a job and I won't have you screwing it up by getting in my way."

"Fair enough," agreed August.

Emma rolled her eyes and stepped forward, letting Neal wrap his arms around her even as she stubbornly muttered, "We _are_ talking about this later."

He smiled lightly, burying his nose in her hair, breathing the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla. "I know."

"I'm gonna be okay," she murmured, brushing her lips against, the movements slightly stilted in light of their audience, "I don't want you to worry. You don't need to."

He really did.

He pressed his forehead against hers, running a hand gently over blonde hair. "Just be careful."

She nodded and stressed, " _Always._ "

He walked her to the car, Emma putting up a minor fuss when she realized that August would actually be riding with her but, considering her issues with him, Neal wouldn't put it past her to try and lose Booth along the way.

Putting his trust in August, however, didn't stop Neal from taking him aside before he could get in the car.

"I'm trusting you with my wife," Neal said, his voice low but storm-like, "Emma calls the shots. She's there to serve her agenda, not _yours._ "

August wore a cryptic smile as he responded. "Some might say the two go hand in hand."

"Booth," Neal warned.

"My job has always been to help _her,_ " he said and with no sign of his earlier evasiveness, "I screwed up before, but I won't now."

The words probably should have made him feel better, but the knot in his stomach only twisted further as Neal stepped back with a nod, tapping the door of the bug as he turned his attention back to Emma.

"Good luck, baby," he murmured, "love you."

"I love you too," she returned, smiling gently, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss but despite their audience, Neal immediately returned it, deep and fierce and desperate before forcing himself to step back, Emma's cheeks pink as she murmured one last goodbye, Neal stepping back, watching as their little yellow bug chugged its way down their driveway.

* * *

Emma wished Neal hadn't gone behind her back and, really, if he had to then she would have hoped that he'd at least try to come up with a better option. But she knew that while she couldn't fully share in his fear, she could trust that it was real.

She just wished Neal would have, maybe, trusted her enough to know that she would respect the situation rather than sticking her with a bodyguard. But if this kept him at home with the kids then whatever.

"Did Neal tell you?" Emma asked, fingers gripping the wheel. And while she would have preferred to ignore August's presence entirely, she also needed to make sure they were on the same page so he didn't expect her to do one thing while she tried to do another. "Why, exactly, we're going to Storybrooke?"

"He mentioned something about a young pregnant woman, jail, and his father," said August.

"A girl named Ashley attempted to steal a contract from Mr. Gold," said Emma. "He pressed charges. A friend of hers posted bail, but I have to make sure that he doesn't try and enforce the contract." She glanced at August pointedly. "Considering Ashley wants to keep her child."

He remained silent for a moment. "You know, back when I was kid my father was on a War Council led by your parents." Emma tensed. "He'd let me sit on the meetings so long as I was good, so I'd mostly just carve stuff under the table but I heard everything."

"This isn't the Enchanted Forest," said Emma tightly.

"No," August agreed, "but I remember that a young woman named Cinderella made a deal with Rumpelstiltskin. Only she didn't read the fine print. He granted her wish, if you will, but what he didn't tell Cinderella was that it would cost her, her first-born. The War Council hatched a plan. Cinderella would get Rumpelstiltskin to make another deal and when he signed the contract, they would use a quill to trap him. He was imprisoned until the curse was cast. Unfortunately, Cinderella's husband, Prince Thomas, disappeared. Magic comes with a price and that was hers."

"What's your point?" Emma asked skeptically.

"I have several actually," said August before raising a brow. "but nothing about that story striked you as familiar?"

She really hated it when people did that. If they knew the answer just tell her. Don't try and fish for it.

"You think Ashley and Cinderella are the same person," Emma said and she supposed that, yeah, giving what Ashley had told her about her stepfamily that actually made sense.

"I do," he said, "I'll be able to confirm it when I see her, of course."

"Your other points then?"

"If Ashley is Cinderella than this _contract_ transcends worlds," he said, "meaning that you might have a harder time getting Gold to back down. Especially if Neal is right and his father has all his memories."

Neal just went ahead and shared everything, huh?

"And finally," August continued, "if we are still operating under the assumption that this contract transcends worlds that means you are dealing with magic, even if you can't see it, and magic always has a price. Right now that price _is_ Cinderella's baby."

She considered that carefully. "So you think that even if I can get Gold to back off, Ashley will still have to pay."

"Unfortunately," said August, a regretful look on his face, "yes."

Well, then. Emma would just have to prove him wrong.

* * *

They arrived to chaos, Ruby running out to the bug before she could even put it in park, announcing in a panicky voice that Ashley had gone into labor not even twenty minutes before they had arrived. Emma made an attempt to hand Ruby the cash for the bail money but she merely pushed it back at her.

"She's my friend too," Ruby told her, giving August a nod in greeting, "I was halfway down there when you called."

Emma cocked her head. "You wouldn't happen to know the father, would you?"

Ruby grimaced somewhat. "Yeah and his father's an ass."

"Then maybe try talking to him when the dad's not around," suggested Emma ruefully, before she backed out and headed in the direction of Storybrooke General, rushing into the emergency room only to find herself face to face with Mr. Gold, his cane clicking against the shiny tiles as he approached them.

"Things progressed quicker than originally anticipated," he announced, a look Emma couldn't quite interpret lingering in his gaze, "they're rushing her off to the delivery room now." He turned his attention on August. "And I see we have another newcomer in our midst."

"This is August, Mr. Gold," said Emma, "he's, uh, a colleague."

"A pleasure," said Mr. Gold, shaking August's offered hand, but other than that he seemed to have little regard for him. "Perhaps, Mrs. Neilson, while we wait for the good news, you might consider visiting Mr. Doe. I've just come from his room myself, but while he's regained consciousness, it seems that his memories are still on a vacation. And while this makes him no less _charming_ , maybe it'll do him some good to have a visit from his good luck charm."

"I was hoping to speak to you actually," said Emma, suppressing the urge to roll hers eyes as August stepped forward.

"What room was he in?" he asked hopefully, "the, uh, Mr. Doe."

Mr. Gold absently pointed down the hall as he fixed her with an intrigued look. "What is it that I can do for you, Mrs. Neilson?"

"Rip up the contract," said Emma.

"Ah, the one thing that I'm in no position to do," said Mr. Gold stepping around her.

Emma cut in front of him. "No, you are. You just don't want to."

"True. It's what we like to call bad business," said Mr. Gold, barring his teeth. "By terminating the contract I would lose more than I would gain."

"She is a mother who wants to keep her child," said Emma coldly.

"And yet she signed it away," said Mr. Gold, a certain amount of disgust lacing his tone.

Emma cocked her head, eyes narrowed, "I think we both know that you took advantage of her."

"Actually, Mrs. Neilson, I think you'd be surprised to hear how very eager she was to sign," said Gold.

"And the fact that she's not now?" Emma prompted.

Mr. Gold scrunched his features playfully and made a whimsical gesture with his hand. "Irrelevant."

Emma tensed, her hand tightening around her keys, hating the fact that it looked like she would have to return home and basically confirm that everything Neal had told her about his father was true. That nothing had changed in the intervening years.

"No," she said blandly, "it's not."

"Pardon?"

"It's not irrelevant," said Emma with a shrug. "The mother wants to keep her child. I think you'll have a hard time finding a judge that won't side with her. At best, maybe, you could sue to get back whatever money you paid her."

"That's very idealistic of you, Mrs. Neilson," said Mr. Gold, "but I think you'd be surprised to find that there isn't a judge in this town that wouldn't side with me."

Emma shrugged. "Then I'll get an appeal. We'll take it to the state."

"You forgetting Mrs. Neilson that just because Miss Boyd is out on bail, that does not mean I have dropped the charges."

She did a poor imitation of his earlier gesture. "Irrelevant."

He smiled, _amused._ "Oh, really," he took a step forward, "because the way I see it you're getting that woman's hopes up, preparing for a long, drawn out court battle, and quite potentially condemning that child to the foster system. Something, I believe, you are familiar enough with to know that is most definitely a worst case scenario. However, regardless of what you seem to think about me, I'm not a cruel man. I'm prepared to make a deal."

Emma didn't hesitate. "No."

Neal had warned her. Never make a deal with Rumpelstiltskin.

A brief flicker of surprise crossed his features before it settled into baffled amusement. "So quickly. You haven't even heard the terms."

"It doesn't matter," said Emma flatly, _unflinching,_ suddenly quite confident that, in spite of August's doubts that she had found her out. "This is my job. I deal with people like you and like her _everyday._ I have yet to give up on a single person that has asked for my help. I know her rights and every last loophole. I _will_ win."

"Maybe," he agreed, though his tone made it perfectly clear that he believed otherwise. "But it seems to me like it would be at quite the cost. A cost that an innocent child shouldn't have to pay."

Emma didn't break his gaze.

"Worst case scenario is that child gets shipped off to foster care right?" Emma asked and he nodded. "My husband I have undergone all the proper training _meaning_ we are more than qualified to care for that child for the duration Ashley can't. But you see, I doubt that'll even get to _that_ point because I think you're forgetting to consider the father. Who I'm guessing didn't sign his rights away."

"It seems you have this all figured out, Mrs. Neilson," said Mr. Gold and he looked reluctantly impressed. "Still it seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through just to avoid make a deal that would make all this go away," he snapped his fingers. "Like that. It would certainly save a young couple with an infant to care for an awful lot of time and money."

"Maybe," Emma agreed, "but that would be taking the easy way out. And trust me, I used to be really good at that. But then I had my son and he made me want to be better. To be the type of person that _tries_ and maybe I don't always succeed, but that's okay. I don't want my children to be afraid of failure. I just want them to try their best. I won't take a shortcut because I wouldn't want my children to. At the end of the day I have to go home and face my children who look to me and their father to set an example. And I _never_ want to do that as a person they can't be proud of. Because they _always_ know."

Emma laced the last words with just a hint of a threat. Or a warning, really. A reminder that she hoped would plant the seeds of doubt, maybe inadvertently telling Gold that someone could be watching. Someone that would hold him accountable for his actions in a way that would hurt far more than a slap on the wrist or time behind bars. Both today and going forward. And, if he really did have his memories like Neal suspected, then he could make a choice. He could do the right thing or he could continue on with exactly the sort of behavior that had driven his son away in the first place.

And, like Emma hoped it would (because she hated the idea of having to tell Neal that his father really was a complete and utter ass), something in his gaze flickered.

"Alright, Mrs. Neilson," he said calmly, "You win. Miss Boyd can keep her baby with no interference from me."

"And you won't press charges?"

"Not today," he confirmed.

Neal had told her that Rumpelstiltskin was a master manipulator of words.

"No," she pressed, "You won't _ever_ press charges against her for the events of that night."

A hand tightened around his cane. "Very well."

"Good." Emma smiled blandly, nodding behind him, to Ruby and a young man she assumed was the father who had just arrived. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gold."

* * *

They named her Alexandra.

"Alexandra _Emma_ , actually," said Sean, who had arrived with Ruby shortly after Gold to walk off.

Emma gaped at the unexpectedness of it all.

"Definitely not necessary, you guys," said Emma, a hint of pink rising on her cheeks, "I really didn't do that much."

"No," stressed Ashley, something in her shifting in a way that gave Emma pause. "It was everything. You gave us back our family."

Sean had a certain twinkle in his eyes when he continued, his voice low, as if worried someone would overhear, "You two would have grown up together, you know, if it hadn't been for the curse. You might have even been friends."

"Instead I got stuck carrying around a nine-month old baby for twenty-eight years," muttered Ashley, the smile as she gazed down at Alexandra taking the sting out of her words.

"You remember?" said Emma, somewhat dumbly because it was one thing to see the result of it and another to hear it second-hand, based off of assumptions and what-have-you.

"Soon as all three of us got together," confirmed Ashley before nodding her head at Emma, "You did that. And we can't thank you enough for it."

Emma did her best to hide her growing discomfort, smiling stiffly. "Just, maybe, be sure to keep it to yourselves for now."

"Of course," agreed Sean while Ashley smiled up at her.

"Would you like to hold her?" she asked, already passing the baby to her before she could say yes or now.

"She's beautiful," Emma murmured fondly, a hint of longing creeping into her words as she gazed down at the sleeping newborn, an image of another with a dimpled chin and messy hair popping unbidden into her head, broken by the sharp sound of knuckles on glass, Emma turning to see August motioning for her attention.

"Is that your husband?" Ashley asked as Emma passed Alexandra back into the safety of her mother's arms, thankfully before longing could turn into an outright ache.

Emma snorted in response. "No. That's August," and then, with a poorly suppressed eye roll, "Pinocchio. I should see," she motioned outside before offering one last smile and a hearty, "Congratulations," before it slipped, turning into a frown as she met August outside. "What?"

He smiled, looking pleased. "I found your father."

Emma blinked and then swiftly changed the subject.

"They remembered," she told him and clearly her accomplishment - breaking deals with Rumpelstiltskin … helping reunite a family … giving back memories – far more impressive than merely recognizing someone. "They know who they are."

"That's great, Emma, but didn't you hear me?" He gave her a pointed look, grinning expectantly. "I found your father."

"There's one more thing I have to do before we go," said Emma, setting a brisk pace, the words carrying back to him as she walked away, eager to get as far away from him and his _knowledge_ as possible. "I'll meet you at Granny's in an hour. Be ready to go."

* * *

She wasn't _just_ avoiding August and the _thing_ he desperately wanted to talk about. She actually did have something she needed to do. And, considering the drive ahead of them, she really didn't want to dilly dally, wasting time over something that didn't actually interest her. August would need to get on board with that. Preferably sooner rather than later.

But Carina had asked if Emma could pass along their phone number and e-mail address (the monitored family account) to Etta Mills, and while she had mixed feeling on her children possibly interacting with someone so close to the Mayor-slash-Evil-Queen (Emma could almost fully accept this now), she couldn't bring herself to deter a potential friendship. Besides, even if she hadn't gotten the chance to personally meet Emma, the few things Carina had shared raised the proverbial red flag. Etta didn't sound like a happy kid – this might help Emma find out if was the typical child drama and angst, or something that would require further interference.

Mayor Mills, however, did not look pleased to see her.

"I'm sorry," said Mills, cocking her head, a hand still gripping her pristine front door as if just waiting for an excuse to slam it shut. "I thought you left."

"I did," said Emma, her thumb caressing the corner of the slip of paper in her hand, "but I got called back on business."

"Business," repeated Mills, eyes narrowing. "Generally speaking, Storybrooke isn't much of a business hub."

She bet not.

"Well, when I say business," said Emma, "I really mean run interference. There was a bit of, uh, a disagreement between Mr. Gold and Ashley Boyd."

For a moment, Mills looked like she must have tasted something bitter. "Well, Mr. Gold has a somewhat unorthodox way of doing things, but Miss Boyd will come to appreciate her decision. Eventually."

Small town. Magic. Evil Queens. It still seemed odd that the Mayor would make it a habit to keep up with the personal lives of her citizens.

"I'm sure she already does," said Emma instead, "It tends to be an instant bond. Mother and child."

Mills did not look happy to find herself behind the latest gossip. "I was under the assumption that Miss Boyd was giving away her child."

"She was," confirmed Emma, "but then she decided to keep her. It happens more than you would think."

"I'm sure," said Mills, "but I have dealt with Mr. Gold for many years now and I can't imagine that he would let her out of her contract quite so easily."

Emma shrugged. "We re-negotiated."

"I'd be careful, Mrs. Neilson," said Mills, lips forming a smirk. "Mr. Gold is not a man that you want to make an enemy of."

Emma smiled blandly. "I think he'd find it's a two-way street.

Mills smirk remained fixed, but the expression changed, the eyes showing a mix of worry and annoyance rather than the perceived upper hand of before.

"Is there a reason you're _here_ ," a polished finger pointed down, "Mrs. Neilson."

Emma hummed an acknowledgement, unfolding the slip of paper in her hands. "The girls hit it off so well the other day and Carina, my daughter, thought, maybe, they'd like to keep in touch."

"And you're encouraging this?" Mills asked, her tone suggesting that she thought Emma was stupid to even entertain the idea.

"Yes?" she said slowly, making the answer a question, Emma unsure why Mills would think she should _discourage_ it.

"You want to subject two young girls, one of whom has a hard enough time make friends, to a long distance relationship," continued Mills.

Emma frowned. "They'd be like pen pals."

"They're children, Mrs. Neilson," said Mills scathingly, "they don't have the attention span for that. And in the meantime you'd only be forging a friendship that has no future. They can't get together to play."

"They could –"

"On your schedule, Mrs. Neilson," spat Mills.

"It could be good for them," said Emma, "to have someone that has gone through a similar experience."

"Similar experience?" echoed Mills.

"Adoption."

"It's not a club, Mrs. Neilson. Henrietta and Cara –"

"Carina," corrected Emma.

"They are not the same," continued Mills. "You and I are _not_ the same." Oh, Emma was well aware of that. "In fact, I seem to recall that she doesn't even call you _Mommy_. That must be a truly horrible feeling. Knowing you'll only ever be second best in her eyes."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "That's an awfully cynical view for an adoptive mother to have."

"Is it?" Mills retorted. "All Henrietta has known her entire life is me. I fed her. I clothed her. I sheltered her."

Emma raised a brow. "Loved her?"

Mills stepped forward, her expression cold as she stopped, standing toe-to-toe with her. "Pardon me?"

"Nothing," she replied, shrugging, though really to someone like Emma it meant everything. She had thought like once. Worriedly prioritizing material things, equating them with emotional needs. And they _were_ important, but they shouldn't be used as a substitute. And things like love should never get left off the list. "It just seemed like a strange thing to leave off, is all. Love, I mean."

"Of course," Mills stressed, "I love my daughter."

"Of course," said Emma, a tight smile crossing her lips, the words too cold for her to truly believe them. But she continued as if she did. "And I love my children too, Madam Mayor. More than anything. Which I'm sure, as a mother yourself, you understand. And because of that I'm also sure you can comprehend that just because my daughter came to me later in her life, it does not mean I love her any less. Nor does it mean she sees me as second best. I'm her mother. She just so happens to honor another too. She's lucky like that. Some people don't even get the one. And I would certainly never try to take that from her."

Like this woman in front of her had clearly taken from so many other, ripping families apart, stripping them of their memories.

"Doesn't that prove my point, Mrs. Neilson," said Mills. "I have had Henrietta since the very beginning, her mother throwing her away like used trash."

"There is abandonment, Mayor Mills," said Emma coldly, and maybe she shouldn't have continued the discussion, but Mills had struck a nerve, "And then there is acknowledging that you cannot take care of your child and having the strength to do the right thing. To give them their best chance."

Mills, had very clearly mixed up Carina's (and Emma's) with Henrietta's narrative.

"You mean like Miss Boyd was prepared to do," retorted Mills, "before you stepped in and convinced a penniless teenager that she has the means to take care of a defenseless newborn."

Emma's smile faltered, "Ashley …"

"Is irresponsible and destitute and you've condemned her to a life of cleaning up after other people's messes," said Mills cruelly, "but that's what you do isn't it, Miss _Swan?_

She took a step back. "How do you –"

"It's my job to _know_ ," replied Mills, "And you, Miss Swan, along with your husband are both quite the pair. But from all that reading I've done – one thing was made abundantly clear. You both have no respect for authority. Your husband does what? He plays with children all day and you, Miss Swan. Rather than teach young minds to respect their elders and obey the law, you instead arm them with the means to defy it. Do you really think you're doing them any favors? Giving _children_ responsibility they are clearly not ready for and will only abuse."

"That's the thing about children and teenagers, Madam Mayor, especially the ones that society forgets," said Emma, finding the courage to step forward once more, realizing that no, Mills might have a list of facts but she didn't know _her._ Not really. "They're people. And when people are handed a gift like respect and independence and actually shown how to use it, then nine times out of ten they do so with the utmost care. Particularly when someone has faith in them. Because they had to do without it for so long." It's when no one bothers to look that the individuals falls away. "And while I'm sure your concern for Ashley is well-intentioned, I don't think you have any reason to worry about her. She has friends and a boyfriend and me. Because my job is an ongoing one, Madam Mayor, and when someone asks for my help, I make myself available to them until the point in time that they no longer need it."

"Well then, best run along, Miss Swan," said Mills, waving her off as if talking to a small child, "because I can assure you that no one in this house needs your brand of help."

The door was slammed in her face and Emma fingered the slip of paper in her hand before she glanced upwards, catching a glimpse of Henrietta peering down at her. She gave a hesitant wave that Emma returned with a cheerful smile before holding up the slip of paper. Then she pointed down, slipping it under the welcome mat. Because despite what Mayor Mills had said – everyone needed help sometimes and, at the very least, everything Emma had heard told her Henrietta could, maybe, use a friend.

* * *

Emma had just finished securing a bag of yet more take-out, gifted to her by Granny Lucas and Ruby as a thank-you for helping Ashley, in the trunk when August strolled up to the car, somewhat subdued and ten minutes late.

"If you're worried," said Emma, as she settled into the driver's seat, August focused on securing his seat belt (he had made several complaints about her driving on the way up here, Emma pushing the boundaries of a few laws as she tried to make good time, "I gave Ruby my number. She promised to give me a ring if she saw something like the Sheriff throwing a pregnant girl in jail."

"You should cut him some slack," noted August as she backed out.

"The Sheriff?" she questioned as she focused on the road, conscious of the fact that he'd pull her over if she even so much went a mile over the posted speed limit.

"He's the Huntsman," said August and when Emma failed to show any recognition. "From Snow White. He saved your mother's life."

"I'll send him some flowers," Emma remarked drily, but good deeds then didn't excuse his behavior now, she didn't think. Not when he had planted himself in the Mayor's pocket. "You know, you could be just a bit happier. Ashley _remembered._ Without me even trying."

Maybe this cursebreaking thing would be easier than everyone thought.

"You know," said August as he attempted to stretch his leg in a small space, "you're going to have to talk to them eventually."

Emma pressed her lips together in a tight line, her hands tightening over the steering wheel. "It's not really any of your business actually."

"It is," he insisted, "because it's my fault that you think they're these horrible people. If I had stuck around you would have known the truth about them. You would know that they were trying to save you. Not abandon you. You'd know what –"

"Let me stop you there, Booth," said Emma sharply, the car rattling slightly as they moved over the town line (they were really going to have to take it to a better mechanic if it had to keep making these long trips). "You don't know me. You spent what? A couple of weeks in the foster system, before you ran off? And I don't blame you. It's not a happy place." And children shouldn't be charged with caring for children. Never mind the circumstances. "After a couple of moves I'm betting that you'd come around to my way of thinking before I ever saw the truth in yours."

Or she would have believed until she didn't. The world loses its magic, bit by bit, in places like that and eventually the truth would have given away to reality.

She glanced at him, briefly, before her eyes found the road once more. "But you did actually help today. That advice you gave me. About Gold and magic contracts or whatever. I don't know if it was true or not, but he tried to change the terms of the deal. He wanted to make one with me."

August looked up at her sharply. "Did you?"

"No," said Emma, letting out a huff of air. "I realized that, if you were right, the only way to nullify the contract was to get him to drop it. And he did. So," she finished with a stiff and awkward, "thanks."

Mostly, she had wanted to go home with something that might resemble a positive. For Neal. Not because she thought this would suddenly change everything his father had put him through, but he needed _something_. Closure, maybe. A weapon to battle his fears. A chance to see that, maybe, his father would put him first.

But she could throw August a bone.

He shifted uncomfortably, murmuring, "It's the least I could do."

A wave of déjà vu washed over her and she blinked, her mind working quickly, until suddenly it turned to realization.

"It was you," she breathed.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"That day," said Emma, using a hand to make a vague gesture. "Back in Tallahassee. I was buying groceries and I came up short. But you footed the bill."

And then some.

August shrugged, "Yeah, well …"

"You didn't say anything," said Emma, glancing at him, confusion marring her features because she imagined that could have been his in, "I offered to exchange information. To pay you back. You could have –"

"You had the kid," he said, "And I owed you."

"No, you didn't," said Emma shortly, not like he seemed to think he did. Her issues with Booth rested entirely on his decision to show up at her house in the middle of the night completely pissed. But he shouldn't have had the responsibility of protecting her to begin with. Just like she shouldn't have been tasked with breaking the curse.

Emma gestured to the backseat, where she had stored her purse. "Take some."

"I'm not taking your money." He seemed almost offended.

"I can pay you back now," she said, "I didn't even really need it then. I just … Port was in a mood that day and I kept getting distracted. I wound up going over budget."

He didn't need the excuses, but Emma really hated playing the part of the charity case.

"You want to pay me back?" Emma nodded. "Then at least let me tell you about your parents."

She rolled her eyes. "Too far, Booth."

* * *

Porter and Carina had given her a wonderfully fantastic welcome home that more than made up for a sucky day of driving, verbal smack downs, and awkward conversations. They had tried to take advantage of the situation, wanting to push their bedtime back, but Emma promised that she would tell them all about her adventure _tomorrow_ as she tucked them into bed.

She was kind of desperate to crawl into bed herself.

"Still mad?" Neal asked as he helped pull her boots off, his hands doing wonders on her aching feet. He knew how to butter her up, she'd give him that.

"That you went behind my back? Yes," said Emma, though mostly in jest. She didn't have the energy to be angry about it. Not in a serious sort of way. "But I suppose he wasn't completely dead weight."

He helped her out of the rest of her clothes, to which she returned the favor, curling up with him sometime later, sharing with him the events of the day, Neal flipping on his side when she got to the part about Gold trying to offer her a deal, furiously asking, "He what?"

"He tried to make a deal," Emma told him before, once more, stressing, " _tried."_

"But you said he let Ashley keep the baby," said Neal, brow furrowing in confusion. "And he's not pressing charges." He squinted at her. "Are you sure you didn't make a deal with him?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Neal."

"I know that," he said, "but my father's a tricky man, Em. He'll twist things so you won't –"

"I got him to say that he wouldn't," she explained, cutting him off, most because he had already told her all of this. "Not ever."

Neal stared at her blankly and, as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around the concept, asked again, "And he let Ashley keep the baby?"

"Yes," said Emma patiently, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"He just changed his mind."

"Well, I can craft a pretty convincing argument," said Emma lightly, but when Neal's expression didn't change, she sobered. "I told him that I wouldn't give up until Ashley got to go home _with_ her baby. And that I wouldn't take the easy way out by making a deal with him because I wanted to set a good example for my children. That I wanted my children to be proud of me." She let that sit for a moment, concluding with, "And then he changed his mind."

With a heavy sigh, Neal rolled onto his back, eyes focusing on the sky light, his jaw set and Emma kissed him goodnight before making it a point to leave him to his thoughts. He understood, obviously, the implications of why Gold had taken a step back but Neal would have to reach his own conclusions. About what he thought it really meant. Or if it even mattered. It wasn't Emma's place to tell him how to process his father's actions. Because she hadn't lived through what he had. Just like she knew he would never try to tell her that good intentions would erase the torment her parent's single choice had ultimately caused her. But she could at least present him what she had observed and, hopefully, the knowledge that his father seemed to carry some form of regret could help, at the very least, chip away at the demons that had haunted him since his father first let go of his hand. Only he could decide if his father deserved his forgiveness, but Neal deserved, Emma thought, the chance to finally put the past behind him.


End file.
